


Something Right

by eiseedoesit



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sparklings, domestic fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-27 07:48:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/976266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eiseedoesit/pseuds/eiseedoesit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Megatron expected a strong, fearsome, battle ready son. What he got was something entirely different. AU. Fluff galore. OOC. Really it's just glimpses into an alternate and much happier version of Echoes and Empires.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Just a much happier alternative version of Echoes and Empires, where Orion and his son live. Since Echoes will focus heavily on Cassiel, this little series of ficlets will focus on sweet effeminate Meta Enjoy the fluff!

Megatronus," Orion shook him helm as he bounced Cassiel in his arms, "You know Meta doesn't like being kept in armor. You're going to hurt him."

"His name is Metatron. Not Meta," Megatronus said, trying to keep a hold on his squirming, crying son, "And if he's going to be a fearsome warrior you need to stop coddling him."

The silver and blue mechling cried harder as his sire locked an oversized chassis guard over his little frame. Meta looked towards his carrier with wide, bright blue optics, as if pleading for help. His twin sister meanwhile, gave him an annoyed, almost jealous glare.

"Megatronus, love—" Orion sighed, "No matter how much armor you put on him or whatever weapons you make him hold he will not go for it. He doesn't have the spark—"

The silver mech huffed.

"Of course he has the spark. My creators thrived and died in the pits of Kaon, as their creators before them. Metatron descends from a great line of warriors. He has my coding and it will show."

Orion gently stroked his son's chin from beneath the obscene helmet that would topple over in a second. The sparkling stopped crying and leaned into his mother's touch, his perfect silver face shining.

"But he isn't you my love. Look at him. Just one glance of you and your enemies race for the hills. I have a feeling when our sweet Meta comes of age he'll have the opposite effect." Orion laughed, "Just one glance of him and I'm certain we'll have all of Iacon and half of Kaon running for a chance to court him."

"That's not a very good joke Orion."

"Oh I don't jest. We did make a very gorgeous son. This place will be crawling with suitors."

"Our son will be the one pursuing. Not the one pursued," Megatronus said, "It is not becoming for him. There! Stand tall my son, show your carrier how strong you are."

The gladiator propped his son on the floor, guiding him to stand on his own two pedals. Meta wobbled nervously, his little servos refusing to let go of his sire's claws.

"Hmm, that helm doesn't suit him either," Orion replied.

As if on cue Meta yelped helplessly as he toppled over, the weight of the armor pulling him face first on the ground. Cassiel giggled happily at the sound, clapping her dark servos in the air.

Meta titled his face upwards, the silver plates shaking. His whimpers slowly escalated into a thin, painful wail. From beneath the heavy armor guards, his dainty little fingers reached up towards his mother.

"Oh my sweet boy," Orion leaned over and took Meta into his free arm. The sparkling's helm guard titled off to the side and fell away, revealing a silver face soaked with tears. The poor mechling's arms were stretched out, clinging to his carrier with as much strength as he could muster.

"Hussh Shhhh, shhhh now Meta. It's over now," Orion said softly all the while glaring at Megatronus, optics blazing.

The silver mech groaned at the threats Orion sent through their bond. Threats that mentioned several cold nights and Megatronus sleeping somewhere other than their berth.

"You wouldn't—" Megatronus crossed his arms, "You never could deny me."

"That was before our twins were born Megatronus. My poor son's optics will be cracked and red because of you and you expect me to be any sort of mood other than irritated?"

"Orion—"

"Cassiel!" Orion leaned down just in time for the restless femmling to leap safely to the floor. She crawled curiously to the discarded pieces of training armor, propping one up on top of her head awkwardly. With chubby, dark, fingers she grabbed hold of the chassis guard and began to bat it wildly, smiling at the clanging sounds.

"No Cassiel," Megatronus picked his daughter up and peeled the armor of her, "You may get hurt little one."

Cassiel simply stared at him with wide, open optics that appeared hurt and betrayed. She whirled and chipped softly, reaching out of the armor he kept beyond her grasp. Her liplates trembled when he shoved the armor beneath the table and out of sight.

"Don't give me that look little lady. You could have gotten hurt. Here," Megatronus picked a discarded brightly colored blanket from the floor, "Don't you like this? That friend of your carrier's gave this to you as a gift. A pretty little blanket for a beautiful little femme."

Cassiel looked at her father's formidable face, then back at the blanket and back again, as if trying to figure out what he wanted her to do with it. She sniffled, her little body quickly rising in heat as her wings drew energy from the light.

"Megatronus she's doing it again!"

Before her creators could react, the little femme flicked her wings, a soft wave of light cascading outwards from the motion.

Megatronus quickly pulled the blanket away before it could burst into flames from Cassiel's uncontrolled solar bursts. What he didn't expect was for little Meta to reach out and grab the blanket from his hold.

"Metatron, what are you doing?" Megatronus gave a frustrated sigh. Meta didn't even see the scowl on his father's face. The little mechling was too busy happily smothering his face in the soft fabric. Meta snuggled into the bright pink and yellow blanket, rubbing his face against the sparkly tassels that dotted the edges.

"There you go. I don't think your sister would mind if you use her blanket," Orion said, tickling the underside of his son's chin. The sparkling chirped brightly in response, rolling his helm towards his carrier's touch. Orion kissed the top of his blue helm, sighing as he felt his son's dainty servos clinging against him, the blanket in between them.

"No. I think Cassiel would like her blanket now." Megatronus made a move to pull the fuzzy material out of Meta's grip.

"Well I think our daughter is warm enough," Orion said, turning away from his mate and tucking the offending blanket securely around his son, "You, however, won't be warm at all come tonight Megatronus."

"We shall see about that my little mate," Megatronus smiled. He leaned over, pulled his mate closer to him, and smacked Orion's aft a bit harder than he meant to. Orion's smile eased into a laugh all the same.

"Not in front of our twins," Orion warned, though his optics flickered, the promise of mischief clear within their blue lights, "Keep your lust in order my love."

"But it is," Megatronus said, "I do have an order. A very precise one. First, we'll put these two to sleep."

"Oh please," Orion laughed, shaking his helm as his mate kissed his cheek.

"Next, after they're both securely in their room, safe and sound…" The gladiator's voice dropped into that low, husky octave that never failed to quake Orion to the very core, "I'm going to take you. Hard and slow."

Orion looked up at him, the hunger suddenly blazing in his optics. He smiled softly, his lips curling in mischief.

Before the librarian could respond, the sparklings between them began to fuss. Cassiel was tugging and tearing at the blanket while Metatron was doing his best to keep the soft material all to himself, whirling in distress as his sister yanked the blanket hard enough to pull it off from around his shoulders.

Megatron carefully lowered Cassiel to the ground. The restless sparkling flicked her wings and crawled over to the sparkling-sized weapons her father had commissioned for her brother. While Metatron was busy gathering the soft, luxurious fabric around him his younger twin was pushing at the mini stun gun. It was nothing more than a toy, but the little femme grabbed on to it, clicked the trigger and made an excited booming noise from her vocals.

"Booopbooopberrrrpop!" The tiny femme wiggled the mock stun gun in various directions, rattling her frame as if getting the full recoil of a blast.

"Care to explain where she learned that Megatronus?" Orion said wearily.

"I may have watched a recording or two of my gladiator matches with her and Metatron."

"Megatronus!"

"They're bound to learn about it one day. May as well show them now so they won't shy away from it." The silver said, avoiding optic contact with his mate, "Do not fret. I don't intend for them to be in the pits. But I don't wish to shelter them from that reality either."

Meta chirped contently in his carrier's arms, rubbing his face on the plushy pink portion of the blanket.

"Have I told you of what the other clerks said about Meta?" Orion asked, gently caressing his son's delicate helm, "They say he should be entered into one of those sparkling pageants. They say he'd win at a glance."

The mechling gurgled happily, his tiny fists full of sparkly tassels. Megatron's face paled at the suggestion.

"Metatron, come here,"

Orion reluctantly placed the mechling in the arms of his mate. Megatron carefully pulled the blanket away, the sudden coldness eliciting distressed sounds from the sparkling.

"Easy now," Megatron said, placing the mechling at the barrel of his fusion canon, "Just want you to get used to weapons that's all."

"Megatronus—," Orion warned, "Do not dare."

"You worry too much. I would never fire at my son. I merely wish him to be familiar with the canon if he's to have when he comes of age."

"Meta will have nothing to do with weapons," Orion replied, "The poor child is terrified of them."

"They only fear what they do not know," Megatronus insisted, "And I intend for him to know how to manage a canon, as his sire and ancestors before him."

Orion watched nervously as Megatronus allowed Meta to crawl over the barrel of the deadly weapon. To both their surprise, the pretty little mechling seemed very happy to be there, perhaps a bit too happy. Meta stretched himself out, hugging the canon like it was best pillow in all of Cybertron. Within a few minutes he was fast asleep, still clinging to his father with the most adorable, innocent smile.

"Yes my love," Orion laughed at the annoyed scowl crossing his mate's face, "He will be the next great terror of Kaon indeed."

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

"There you go my son," The silver mech stood awkwardly as he tried to guide the little mechling to a proper standing position, "Right on your two pedals like a strong mech."

Meta's legs, chubby and wobbly, kicked in the air as his father tried to settle him on the ground. It took much prompting and soothing, but at last the sparkling calmed and began to ease himself on the floor.

"There," Megatron smiled widely, happy that his firstborn at last had his pedals on the ground, "Was that so hard my brave little warrior?"

And the honest answer was...yes. Yes it was hard. Difficult. Excruciating. Borderline impossible to get Meta out of his arms. The sparkling had practically been magnetized to his father's arms, his tiny frame sticking to the gladiator.

Whenever Megatron would try to peel Meta off of him, the sparkling would refuse, wrapping himself around his father's massive cannon arm and wailing up a storm. Megatron knew enough about sparklings to know that they had a tendency to be very attached with their creators and that separation anxiety was the expected norm. But this-this was worrisome.

Meta stood for about three seconds before tumbling to his knees. His face scrunched up, and with tears streaming down with silver face he turned and crawled over his father's pedals, latching on the top of the giant mech's foot. He clung on to Megatron's foot like a cyberslug on the wall. His brilliant blue optics looked up at his father, wavering and seeking comfort. Megatron sighed, placed his servos at his hips as he stared down at the silver and blue sparkling clinging to him.

"When I was your age Metatron, I would have you know that I was already chasing after turbo foxes and grabbing their tails." Meta chirped lightly at him. The pitch was higher than Megatron liked, meek, not at all the type of response he always imagined any son of his would have.

"No Metatron, not this time," The silver gladiator shook his helm as Meta raised up his silver arms. The sparkling was whirling and chirping, timidly tapping his father's armored leg.

"I won't lift you up and carry you again if that's what you want," Megatron said, "You've been coddled for far too long. You need to learn to stand up. Run around. Roll in the dirt. Drag yourself in the mud just as I did."

The silver mech bent down and peeled the sparkling from his foot, frowning as the poor child dug so deeply into his armor that thin little scratches were made. He plopped the Meta on the floor and stepped back five strides away. Meta, seeing his sire so far away, continued to whimper and extend his flailing arms.

The sparkling slowly stood, his arms out stretched for balance. His stance was uneasy, legs wobbly and trembling at the knees. He looked up at his father and chirped.

"That's it my strong boy! Up on your pedals," Megatron encouraged, "One step at a time. Come right here, that's it."

Little Meta whimpered and with great concentration put one pedal forward til he was waddling towards his father. Megatron was kneeling, arms open to receive the blue and silver mechling.

"There you go. You're almost there Metatron. Almost-" Meta, distracted by his father's praises, slipped. His left pedal tripped over his right one. His body fell forward. Megatron lunged forward and caught him mid fall. Meta cried, his tears profuse and thick.

He clung to his father's arms tighter than ever before, scurrying up to the silver mech's chassis. As if by some magical, mysterious ability that carrier's possess, Orion appeared beside them, out of breath and immediately hushing his son's cries.

"He needs you," Megatron said, sighing and trying to put Meta into the arms of his mate. The sparkling refused to budge, burying his face into his father's armpit and soaking it with tears.

"It appears that he feels differently," Orion said. The librarian gently guided Megatron's arms to hold the sparkling tighter. The gladiator stared at him, confused and nervous.

"Our sweet boy finds comfort in being embraced, cradled, especially when he's completely enveloped," Orion said kindly, "My love, our son is an affectionate child. It is good to return his sentiments."

"I-I know," Megatron said, his optics drifting to the precious sparkling sobbing softly in his arms, "It's just that-I'm not accustomed to it I guess. Being born and raised in the mines there was no time for this. Sparklings had to grow up fast. Creators died even faster."

Orion's servos reached up and pulled Megatron's helm down, kissing him. The touch was tender, sensitive, conveying comfort as their lips met.

"You gave me what I never thought I would ever have," Megatron said, kissing edge of Orion's mouth.

"And you, my strong, stubborn gladiator, are an exceptional mate and sire to my sparklings," Orion smiled, "My choice I will never regret."

Megatron laughed, deep and full. The mechling he held ceased sobbing at the sound and rumble of it.

"Sparklings grow in their time," Orion said, reaching up to stroke the side of Meta's blue helm, "I confess that I wish for our sparklings to not grow up so fast. I'll miss this stage, where they seek affection and embrace."

"Have no fear little mate," Megatron chuckled, "I can hardly imagine a time where Meta is not constantly seeking for his creator's embrace, though I hope for it. How else is he to learn how to fight and defend his sister if he's always clinging on to my foot or hiding behind my leg?"

"Oh, you may just be surprised," Orion replied, "Like now. Holding our son in your arms. Does it not calm your spark? See how it relaxes him? How your presence makes him feel secure?"

Megatron said nothing, but his optics were bright as he gazed on the sparkling against his chassis. Meta chirped happily, his face spread into a smile so immense his optics disappeared.

"He will make a fine warrior in time," Megatron said, all the while rocking the sparkling gently, smiling as Meta gurgled happily at the motion, "I shall teach you to stand on your own pedals."

Orion leaned in as his mate drew him into their collective embrace. Meanwhile, outside of their home, should they look past the window at that moment they would have seen a curious sight. Little Cassiel was covered in mud, laughing to the high heavens as she was being dragged through dirt, clenching to the tail of a very terrified turbo fox.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admit I'm not the most creative when it comes to coming up with food for Cybertronians. So let's just pretend that sticking the word 'energon' before any food item shall constitute it as such.

Megatron huffed, slamming the door shut and smashing the lock codes into the keypad.

"Orion?" The silver mech shoved the various sparkling toys and datapads scattered on the floor with the feet.

The meeting with the City-Lords had been long and tedious, as was expected. But what Megatronus did not expect was just how incredibly taxing it was not to hit those lords across their smug faces. He was a mech of patience, as unbelievable as it was. He had to be, patience was what got him to constantly win in the gladiator pits. Patience was what got him his followers. Patience was what lead him to Orion. But at the moment his patience was thin, a sliver really, having been chipped away by the idiotic ramblings of lords and generals.

And the smoke coming from the kitchen, the toys littered beneath his pedals, and the icing smeared on the walls was quickly making his temper boil over.

"Orion?" Megatronus wasn't even yelling at this point, his voice low and pressured, irritated with each passing klik that his mate did not reply. He grumbled, the sound rumbling painfully down his throat. Energon. He needed energon. Primus knows those City Lords didn't know when to take a break for refueling.

The mech walked into the refueling room, ready to take whatever open container there was laying around and chug all the energon from it.

His optics narrowed when he felt something squish beneath his pedal. He lifted his foot up awkwardly. A scowl crossed his face. Batter. Squishy, gooey, energon cake batter.

"Metatron!"

The silver mech pried the door to the kitchen open. A puff of flour and rolling sprinkles greeted him.

From beneath a cloud of flour little Meta squeaked.

"Sire!" The sparkling's silver face lit up at the sight of his father, his bright smile spreading. He wiped his forehelm, grabbed a cloth and began to wipe off the excess batter that spilled all over the table. A poofy white cap was fastened over his blue helm. Pink and yellow crystal designs swirled all around it, glittering and sparkling in the light. It was pretty, feminine, and much too dainty for Megatron's comfort. The silver mech's right optic twitched.

"What did you do to the kitchen this time?" Megatron watched warily as his firstborn scurried about the kitchen, tidying up in a whirlwind of frosting, flour, and cleaning solution.

"Just a klik Sire. Just give me a little time!" Meta said, his voice so very fair and light. It worried Megatron to notice that Meta's voice was even lighter than that of his twin, as Cassiel was still a child herself. Orion would tell him not to mind it, that voices change, and that he would miss the sound once Meta got older. Megatron honestly couldn't wait.

The sparklings were growing fast, being able to verbally express themselves now, Cassiel more that Meta. To his credit the little mechling was walking and running all on his own now, although Megatron did often find him clingy and attention seeking. Cassiel was more direct, precise, and although she could be rather affectionate she could tolerate being away from her creators fairly well. Metatron however, seemed to thrive under constant attention and praise. He was a sweet sparkling, attached like a magnet to his creators. Orion absolutely loved it. Megatron however, was worried than amused.

"Almost done Sire! Almost!" Meta grinned widely as he scrubbed the table clean. Or at least, as clean as a little sparkling could make it. There were bottles of sprinkles and sparkles tossed all around, piles of sweeteners, stacks of rust sticks and vials of coloring agents as much as the optics could detect. Pots, cans, and molding wares were crammed into the wash basin, some were dotted on the floor, while others were stacked so Meta could use them as stepping stools.

That was yet another thing that bothered Megatron. Meta was very small, tinier than his sister, not just in height but also in his overall frame shape. The mechling was a "petite, pretty little thing, with the brightest blue optics this side of Iacon" the medical assistant said, much to Megatron's annoyance and Orion's delight. They checked with three medics already concerning Meta's stature but they came up with the same conclusion: Metatron was developing normally. Nothing was stunted, no essential component lacking, no system wired differently. Megatron wanted to seek a fourth opinion but Orion promptly put an end to that request.

Despite all the reassurance, Megatron still worried. He constantly compared his son to where he himself was at that age and found their similarities were next to none.

"Sire! Sire! Just one last thing."

Meta chirped excitedly. He scrambled up a stool to reach the countertop again. With dainty, dark servos he took one of the containers and opened the cover.

"Tada!" The mechling's eyes shimmered with pride as he revealed his latest culinary creation, "All that's missing is the little topper thing, but I have it right here."

The mechling carefully placed a miniature crown made of rusts sticks and various shapes of eatable sweet gems right on top of the bright purple cake. He slid the cake carefully into his servos and with calculated, cautious steps made his way to his father.

Megatron sighed, his temper fit to burst. Poor little Meta however, was far too happily to even notice the steam emanating from his father's helm.

"Do you like it Sire?" Meta asked timidly. He was always a nervous child, a terribly sensitive one to boot. The sparkling raised the cake up towards his father, his brilliant optics wide and waiting, "I think I got the colors right…"

Meta's smile began to wane as his father just stared at him in cold silence.

"Umm...I'm sorry if it's a bit messy. Cassiel and I made a first cake but it kinda burned...and then she kinda put too much sweetener on the second one so this third one is all I have. It's not as good as the others but...but I tried."

Meta waited hopefully for a reply. His arms began to wabble, and with his father's furious glare so did his lips.

"You and this kitchen are a mess." Megatron said slowly, trying to reign in his anger, "I've been meeting all day Metatron. All I wanted was to return home with some energon waiting for me. Not another mess for me to worry about."

The sparkling's lips quivered and he bit down to make them still.

"And now I have batter under my pedals," Megatron huffed as he swiped a smear of icing of his shoulder, "And icing all over my armor. And from the looks of it you've gone through all the sweeteners in our inventory."

Meta's blue shoulders slumped, and he pulled the tiny purple cake closer to him, as if he wanted to cover it up and hide it from ever being seen again.

"Sorry Sire," The mechling said, his optics turned down.

Megatron leaned down and took the cake from his son. Meta followed his motions, his face falling when his father simply tossed the cake on the table without another care.

"Go clean yourself up Metatron," The silver mech said, rubbing a bit of flour off the side of Meta's face. He couldn't resist it anymore and went ahead and yanked the silly, sparkly cap off as well, throwing it on top of the sweeteners.

"Y-yes Sire," Meta said, quickly heading to his chambers, "Sorry Sire."

Megatron finally vented, grumbling and cursing beneath his breath as soon as his son was out of sight. As he put the sticky, gooey dishes on the wash basin his resentment brewed. Where in Primus' name was Orion the entire day? Did he honestly just allow their kids free reign of the kitchens? Megatron's frustrations poured down on him, from his hatred for the City Lords to his mild annoyances with the dirty cooking ware.

His thoughts were still deeply contemplating the best way to bash the City Lord of Vos when his own helm was unexpectedly smacked from the back.

"What the frag is wrong with you?"

Megatron rubbed the back of his helm, turning around to see a very heated, very upset bondmate.

"Pardon me my dearest Orion," Megatron said, "But in case you haven't noticed our kitchen looks like a ransacked bakery. I haven't refueled since leaving home in the dead of night last night. I'm irritated because all that meeting did was convince me that if I don't do something Cybertron will be run to rust from those dull-processors in that fragging Council. And now I come home expecting you to greet me with some semblance of support and all I find is our son-"

"My son is crying his optics raw because of you!"

Megatron shut up immediately. Orion's anger was rare, but when it surfaced he swore even Unicorn himself would think twice before provoking him.

Orion strode over to where the cake sat, abandoned and glittery like someone blasted it with a sparkle canon.

"Do you have any idea how hard he worked on making a decent energon cake ready for when you return?" Orion said, "Yes Megatron, I understand how frustrating it is to attend those meetings. I've sat through countless ones myself as a scribe. But that is still now excuse to take your anger out on someone who has nothing to do with it. Especially Meta."

"Why is he crying this time?" Megatron said, "All I did was instruct him to clean up."

"You didn't even acknowledge the cake," Orion said, "He begged me to take him to the market this morning so he could get the right ingredients to make it. Two failed attempts and he still insisted to try again. This was his third time. He mixed the batter himself, put in the icing, designed the topper. Did you even recognize it?"

Megatron's optics fixed themselves on the cake topper. It was a strange, rather abstract interpretation of a crown. There were tiny colorful sparkles on it, glinting and catching the light. They resembled rubies, emeralds, sapphires and amethysts all scrunched atop rust sticks dipped in various shades of silver coloring. His spark sank like lead in water when he suddenly realized-

"Our anniversary," The silver gladiator said, smacking a servo over his face, "It was today, wasn't it?"

Orion's pedal was tapping on the floor, his arms crossed, faceplates turned down in a disappointed scowl. The clerk vented deeply, his optics closed in an attempt to calm himself.

"Yes. It is," Orion said, "I mentioned it to our sparklings last night as I was settling them for recharge. Meta wished to hear the tale of how we first met. He was so thrilled imaging you presenting the winning crown to me after you won the tournament. He wanted to surprise you when you got back from that meeting. He thought it would make you feel better."

"I've made a mess of things again then?" Megatron replied, "I failed to get anywhere with the Council. Now I return home and fail to remember our Anniversary. And Meta-"

The silver mech shrugged.

"It was not my intent to hurt him," Megatron said, "You must believe that."

Orion's scowl eased, his optics sad and worried. He extended a servo, gently touching his mate's massive arm.

"My love, you are a mech of many responsibilities. I understand that," Orion smiled softly, "And while I can forgive you for forgetting our anniversary I must ask you to be gentle when reprimanding Meta. He's a sensitive sparkling."

"I know that," Megatron replied, "I just-it's difficult at times. I guess I'm not used to this kind of behavior. When I was a youngling we didn't have all these sweeteners and energon laying around to make delicacies with. And my creators, for the short time I was with them, were not overly affectionate. Nor did they encourage me to do. Working in the miners and gladiator pits, they couldn't afford to show affection."

"Megatronus," Orion said, "I understand that. I accepted it when we bonded. But Meta can't even comprehend that kind of existence. I pray to Primus our sparklings never experience it. And I thank you, my love, for making sure that they never will."

The larger mech couldn't help but chuckle weakly as Orion leaned against him. He wrapped a strong, possessive arm around his smaller mate.

"You know, ever since Meta was born I imagined how he'd be like. I thought of how I'd react to him getting into trouble, breaking the rules, causing havoc, so much like myself. I was prepared to deal with all that. I never expected...this." Megatron said, waving at the messy kitchen, "It still catches me off guard."

"Meta is different from you in many ways," Orion said, "Making treats is just one way he shows affection. And we, my love, must meet him where he is. He doesn't know much else. This is how he expresses his love. We should return it likewise."

"He could simply tell me," Megatron said, with a huff of breath. Orion laughed, shaking his helm.

"Please Megatronus, you're not that vocal about saying you love someone either. That's at least one thing he got from you."

"What do you mean? I tell you I love you everyday!"

"Yes, but only when no one else is around. Usually when you're done fragging me through the floor," Orion's optic ridges raised playfully, "Either that or when you're about to ask a favor of me."

"Very well," Megatron said, quickly kissing the top of his mate's helm, "You are right, as usual."

"You should speak with him," Orion said, "Meta is far more sensitive than you realize. He carries emotions deeply though he denies it. Much like you, my love. He refuses to let others see him cry. He'll go off and lock himself in his chambers, in the washracks, in the library…"

Megatron nodded, embracing his mate tighter.

"You are far too forgiving,"

"You will find that Meta is as well," Orion said, "Go now, before his optics are completely ruined."

The silver mech kissed him full on the lips before taking the cake and walking towards the bedchambers. When Megatron finally saw Meta his spark ached at the sight.

The silver and blue mechling was in the washroom, standing on the tips of his pedals as he leaned over the wash basin. The sparkling was crying quietly, sobs shaking through his petite frame. Meta looked up for a brief moment, caught a glimpse of his wet, messy face and burst into fresh wave of tears. He grabbed a washcloth hanging on the side, slid down to the floor and curled into a ball, aggressively rubbing his face blue.

"Metatron,"

At the sound of his father's voice the sparkling's sobs became pressured. He quickly buried his face into the washcloth, as if trying to conceal himself from looking at the mech.

"S-sorry Sire," Meta mumbled, his voice muffled by the cloth, "It's Ca-Cassiel's fault. She got her silly, femmy perfumes all over my w-wa-washcloth again. Makes m-my optics burn."

Megatron tried not to sigh. He knew full well that Cassiel never used only time she ever touched the bottles was to open them for Meta after he begged her to let him try them.

"Well, we can't have that. I can imagine it would be very unpleasant to eat this energon cake while your optics hurt."

Meta peaked up from the washcloth, his tired optics widening when he noticed his father holding the cake.

"Y-you're not mad at me anymore?" Meta sniffled, pulling the cloth away from his face, "You w-wanna eat that?"

"Yes," Megatron awkwardly adjusted himself so he could sit in front of his son, "I do."

The sparkling's eyes were bright and glistening, watching his father partially in awe and mostly in disbelief.

"And I was not mad at you Metatron," The silver mech said gently, "I was upset, yes. And I apologize for extending that frustration towards you."

"Oh Sire!" Meta's lips quivered as he crawled towards his father. He nervously curled up by the giant mech's side, "Does that me you don't hate me?"

"Of course I don't hate you!" Megatron immediately toned down when Meta curled away from the sudden boom of his voice, "What I mean to say is, I did not mean to hurt your feelings and I was wrong for dismissing your gift for me and your carrier."

Megatron stuck a digit into the cake and tasted it. His optic ridges raised, surprised.

"How is it?" Meta said, anxious about the verdict.

"It's very sweet," Megatron said, scooping out a full bite of the energon cake this time, "But it's light and soft. Very impressive for a sparkling."

Meta smiled and leaned against the mech. Megatron wrapped his arm around Meta, drawing him closer. The sparkling chirped. He seemed to like that.

"Did you make a lot of cakes when you were younger Sire?" Meta asked, "I bet they were better than mine."

"Oh no," Megatron shook his helm, "The first time I ever saw an energon cake was when I became champion and received one as a gift from one of my admirers. Such delicacies were reserved for those how could afford it."

"Oh...so you never made a cake for your creators?" Meta said, "What did you make for them then?"

Megatron rubbed his son's face, wiping the tears away as gently as he could. Meta did not protest.

"I never had the chance. Their sparks extinguished when I was very young. Younger than you are right now."

The news of this distressed Meta. Megatron sighed and allowed him to crawl into his arms, cradling him close to his spark for comfort.

"That sounds really scary Sire." Meta whispered, audios pressed against his father's chassis as if he needed to hear the spark beating, feel the warmth radiating out.

"It was," Megatron said, "I have very few memories of them. But you know what, Metatron? In spite that I still loved them greatly."

The silver mech laughed, the rumble of it calming the sparkling.

"I recall one time, when I was a youngling, I fought with another miner. He was insulting the memory of my creators. I never cared to find out if his accusations were true or false. It didn't matter. I still planted his helm through the ground, left the rest of him sticking out like an old, rusty, nail."

Meta's helm lifted up, his optics staring at his father in wonderment.

"Don't ever tell your carrier I said that," Megatron said, "Or else he'll plant my helm in the ground."

"Oh, is it our secret then?" Meta grinned.

Megatron thought for a moment before nodding.

"Yes," The silver mech said, laughing as Meta clasped his tiny servos over his mouth, "I guess it is."

"Alright Sire," Meta giggled, his tears finally ceasing.

"Well...now where is your sister? It isn't like her to be far away when you're in distress-"

Before Meta could answer a loud crash resonated from out of the window.

"What is going on out there?" Megatron walked over to the window, looking around to find the source of the commotion. Meta gulped and waved his servos in the air.

"CASSIEL!" Megatron's voice boomed out.

The purple and blue femme turned around, distracted by her father's voice long enough for the terrified mechling beneath her to scurry out of her reach.

Cassiel's faceplates went from surprised and scared to a fury that rivaled that of her father's. She grabbed a rock and lifted it high as if to throw it. She changed her mind half way, dropped it and proceeded to pick up an even bigger rock with both her servos. She launched it at the poor mechling blazing away.

"I'll bury your stupid face in the ground if you ever call my brother those nasty names again! I'll shove all the cake batter straight up your-"

"Cassiel! Enough!" Megatron said. Meta was sniffling and shaking in his arms, "What are you doing?"

The femmling appeared torn, one leg facing the direction of the terrified mechling ready to sprint off after him. She grunted and finally decided to turn to her father instead.

"That dull headed brat was making fun of Meta!" Cassiel said, her blue optics fierce, "Was I supposed to let them do that?"

"That mechling was insulting your brother?"

Megatron scowled, looking around and scanning the premise for Orion's immediate presence.

"Next time my sweet femme," Megatron said, "Aim for the helm."

And like the compliant daughter she was, Cassiel nodded.

"Yes Sire."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to whoever can figure how where I got the title of this fic from ^_^


End file.
